


are you going to age with grace?

by maanjha



Series: phandom bingo [3]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Phandom Fic Fests: Bingo, creative interpretation, feels so scary getting old, prompt fill: makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 01:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16316441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maanjha/pseuds/maanjha
Summary: He brings home six-packs of 'Collagen Booster’, whatever that means. He sips on the contents of the tiny bottles and winces at how sour they are. At night, before they both clamber into bed, Phil spends ten minutes slathering his face with different creams that all claim to turn back time, to reduce signs of ageing and dullness.





	are you going to age with grace?

**Author's Note:**

> please note: this fic is un-betad.

The top drawer beneath their bathroom sink is populated by several pale beige tubes. Most are depleted but not quite empty- dozens of plastic bottles with a smidge of product left in them that Phil couldn’t bear to throw away. They clatter against each other when Dan pulls the drawer open to retrieve his electric shaver. 

For something that Phil uses oh-so-frequently, it surprises Dan how much Phil is willing to splurge on concealer.  
One tube of the Phil-coloured gloop costs 19 pounds, and lasts him barely two months. A younger Phil might have gone for a drugstore dupe. But this Phil is older, this Phil likes to indulge himself, this Phil pays more attention to looking youthful and well-rested than the fringed Phil ever did. Dan knows that this Phil is more painfully aware of his appearance than bright-eyed Manchester Phil ever was. 

They drink more green smoothies out of tetra packs. (They still haven’t mastered the art of making them taste as good at home.) There’s three red “Puffy The Eyebag Slayer” eye masks in their freezer, which Phil meticulously applies to his face an hour before he appears before a camera. He's even changed his hair dye from the cheap one that just covers up grays to one that advertises 'healthy black hair, naturally, with NO HAIRFALL!’

He brings home six-packs of 'Collagen Booster’, whatever that means. He sips on the contents of the tiny bottles and winces at how sour they are. At night, before they both clamber into bed, Phil spends ten minutes slathering his face with different creams that all claim to turn back time, to reduce signs of ageing and dullness. 

Dan knows Phil worries about the darkness under his eyes, the creases that line his temples and mouth. He sees him spend a little too long looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, seeing his hairline recede. He watches Phil douse his quiff with the sea salt spray stuff, and dab concealer on the shadows that inhabit the bags under his eyes. He sees Phil consider buying brow gel for the fading ginger arches on his forehead, and sees him close the tab when Dan scoots a bit too close on the sofa. 

Phil thinks he’s old. He thinks he’s growing unattractive. It drives Dan to insanity. 

Phil won’t wear glasses because he thinks they age him. It’s only when his eyes tire of having contacts in them that he switches to his large black frames. Phil won’t post an Instagram story without using some kind of filter that alters his appearance completely. (That might have more to do with Phil wanting to try all the funny options and less with Phil’s growing insecurity about his physical appearance, but sue Dan, he’s been an overthinker all his life and he’ll analyse Phil’s each move no matter how trivial it may seem.)

It worries Dan. It worries him that Phil’s obsession with retaining his youth is devolving into a messy, unhealthy obsession with his physicality. It doesn’t help that Dan knows he himself looks like he’s in the prime of his youth: his skin glows, his hair is bouncy even though he spent half his life frying it with straighteners, and there are no stray greys hidden in the curls. 

They’re brushing their teeth, side by side at the bathroom sink, when Dan can’t stop himself from asking.

“Phil?”

“Hmph?” Phil spits in the sink and makes eye contact with Dan in the mirror. 

Dan hesitates, and then asks, “Does growing old scare you?”

Phil’s body stills. He rinses his mouth, pulls out a towel and dabs at his mouth, all excruciatingly slowly. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone who isn’t.” he says, finally turning to look at Dan. He looks closed up, on guard, ready for a rebuttal. 

Dan lets it all tumble out. “It’s just that recently you’ve been really conscious about your skin and you diet and you spend so much time looking in the mirror, searching for grey hair, and Phil, there’s a graveyard- a graveyard!- of concealer in this drawer, you go through it so fast and I’m just worried that you’re not happy with being old and I wanted to tell you that you look fine! Just fine! In fact I think you look even better now, you’ve got that whole ‘hot dad’ look going for you, and I just don’t want you to feel like you’re unattractive- ”

Dan halts. Phil’s expression is inscrutable, and not being able to read Phil like an open book takes all the air out of Dan’s rant. He feels like an outsider looking in. 

The uncomfortable silence draws on for a moment too long. Phil leaves the bathroom, still expressionless. Dan hears the bed creak slightly and knows that he’s gone to lie down in their moon bedroom. 

\----

“Are you mad at me?” Dan mumbles. He’s curled himself around Phil- Phil, who simply acknowledged him with a soft sigh when Dan put his head on his chest. 

A few seconds pass. 

A deeper sigh. “No, I’m not mad, Dan. I’m just... tired.“ 

Dan scrambles up and props himself on his elbow. “Talk to me.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Phil says, voice breaking slightly at the end. He really does look tired. His undereyes look stained purple, and Dan can see the faint blue network of veins under his skin. He remembers a random fact about how the aristocracy in Britain valued translucent pale skin and blue veins so much that they used navy pencils to trace blue lines onto their skin. 

“I’m worried about you.” Dan says. He presses his thumb gently into the hollow beneath Phil’s right eye. The skin there feels like warm silk. Phil blinks, and the skin moves under Dan’s thumb- alive and vital. It feels like magic. 

“There’s nothing to be worried about. I’m just older, and I’m coping with that by doing the best I can to feel the same as I used to.” Phil wraps his fingers around Dan’s wrist, the one that’s resting on his face, and pulls it down to his mouth to kiss it. 

Dan’s mouth is still pulled down at the corners. “And does it make you sad? That you’re older now?” 

Phil doesn’t meet his eyes. “A little.”

Dan wraps himself around him, legs grasping Phil’s waist, arms squeezing around his back. He almost crushes Phil with how tightly he holds him. 

“You know I love you, right? No matter how old or wrinkly you get. I love you so fucking much.” Dan says, lips pressed to Phil’s temple. He can feel the light grooves of Phil’s laugh lines against his mouth. Phil is- smiling. He’s got him to smile again. 

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.”

Time is constant, and so is Dan.

_When you fall asleep_  
With your head upon my shoulder  
When you're in my arms  
But you've gone somewhere deeper 

_Are you going to age with grace?_  
Are you going to age without mistakes?  
Are you going to age with grace?  
Or only to wake and hide your face? 

_When oblivion_  
Is calling out your name  
You always take it further  
Than I ever can 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third fill for the Phandom Fic Fest: Bingo Fest! The prompt is Makeup. I grew tired of writing nsfw so I decided to write this instead.  
> The final masterlist for all the prompts I fill can be found on [my tumblr.](http://maanjha.tumblr.com/)  
> The title of fic is from Bastille's song Oblivion.


End file.
